Transcribed below. The typewriter is one of the Royal Quiet De Luxe machines that seem to pile up when one’s attention is elsewhere; this one is from 1953 and writes in Elite type.

A Flash Epic

This is the cubicle forest. The murmuring drones and the bosses
Soaking with coffee, and in garments beige, indistinct in the beigeness,
Stand like statues on lawns, with voices muttering buzzwords,
Stand like people at banks, just waiting in line for a teller.
This is the cubicle forest; but why are the cubicle dwellers
Standing around in the hallway, as if they had nothing to work on?
Why are they muttering buzzwords, while coffee gets cold on the counter?
Is it because of the bosses? It must be because of a meeting.
Somebody must have hollered, “Flash meeting happening now.”
Waste are the fifteen minutes, the coffee cold on the desk;
Naught but the Meeting remains to say that work’s being done.